Passing by the window of a music store so gay,
What attracted my attention was a song they did play.
When this cruel war is over and the bloom is on the rye,
Dear Mother, I'll come home again if Daddy don't come by.
Want someone to love by the bright shaded ways,
And the girls from the South who are gone from my gaze.
And it's root, hog, or die way down in Dixie land,
It's a . . . trail of . . . and the . . . country band.

Oh, I wish I was a boy again with a dollar or two;
I'd offer her this hand of mine . . ..
For it's rock me to sleep in the old arm chair,
Hurrah for Uncle Abraham, the boys are all there.
Do they miss me at home, way down in Maine?
Oh, I wish that I was with them, and shall we meet again?
Forever love the beer and sauerkraut,
Hallelujah . . . no way out.

And Miss Annie of the veil a-coming through the rye
We were all so fond of kissin', Suzanna, don't you cry.
Have a good time a-coming in the Irish . . . car,
With the girl I left behind when I went to the war.
Is it anybody's business when the swallow home to flies.
To the fine old women coming homesick and need supplies.
As the Star Spangled Banner and a sword of Bunker Hill,
Six hundred thousand boys are riding on a rail.